Monsters in the Dark
by Emiliya Wolfe
Summary: Monsters don't exist. Fred knows that. And George is always there to bring a light to the dark. But what happens when it's George who's lost in the dark, and Fred is the only one who can save him?


**For Fruits - I hope you enjoy this emotional Weasley drabble (and happy birthday month).**

* * *

 **Haunted House - write about someone who is scared of the dark.**

 **Optional - write about someone being attacked by a werewolf, (word) attack.**

 **Assignment #7 - Care of Magical Creatures - write about someone throwing things at someone.**

 **Buttons - (AU) Werewolf, (dialogue) "I don't hear anything."**

 **Costume party - (AU) Werewolf**

 **Angola - (colour) amber**

 **The Cat In The Hat - Fred Weasley**

 **751 words**

* * *

'George?'

Though it was meant to be a whisper, Fred couldn't help but wince as his voice echoed through the corridor, the blackness warping his voice until it echoed back at him mockingly.

Fred's body felt as though it was frozen, locked in place, and he could count the hairs on the back of his neck as they stood up one by one. Someone was watching him.

 _If you don't move, they can't touch you_ , he thought, repeating his age-old mantra. _If you don't move, they won't find you._

* * *

' _Fred?' George queried from the other side of the room, his six-year-old voice heavy with sleep. At least Fred thought it was. Everything was twisted in the dark._

' _George?' Fred's voice came out fragile, querulous. 'What happened to the jar of fire?'_

' _What?'_

' _What happened to the jar of fire?' Fred asked again, desperation tinting his voice._

' _Um… I think it went out. It does after a while.'_

 _A pause._

' _George?'_

' _Fred?'_

' _I'm stuck. They're waiting for me. I can hear them.'_

' _I don't hear anything, Fred.'_

 _Another pause, but this time Fred could sense his twin's confusion. He wanted to say more, to explain, but the dark pressed in from all sides. He couldn't say more. Not without giving himself away. Why was George not replying? Had he been swallowed? Had he been taken?_

 _He wanted to go and find Mum, to ask her for help against the monsters in the night, but the corridor was black and she was far away. He couldn't leave George, but he couldn't bring himself to move. What if the monsters followed him?_

 _He felt his throat close in on itself, the doorway suddenly seeming too narrow for Fred to fit, even though he and George had practiced scaling it up to twice their height the day before._

 _Suddenly, a light sparked in the bedroom, followed by a sizzle and a bang. Soon, pixies and leprechauns filled the room, green dancers laughing and singing in the night._

 _Suddenly, the dark receded. Suddenly, Fred didn't feel so alone._

* * *

Fred was alone now though. George was who knew where in this cursed house, captured by Snatchers, perhaps even turned over to the Death Eaters by now. There was no mistaking the famous Weasley red hair.

Emboldened by this thought, Fred nursed his spark of adrenaline to race to the other side of the house, not stopping until he saw the full moon reflected through the window.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Fred allowed his eyes to roam across the room. An ornate, amber mirror hung above the chest of drawers; rumpled white sheets were strewn across the room. It was another bedroom, probably one of the Snatchers'. He would have to turn back.

Back through the dark.

Taking a deep breath, Fred steeled his nerves and reminded himself once again of George, who needed him. George, who had single-handedly created their love for mischief by keeping the monsters at bay whenever, wherever, Fred needed him to.

His brother. His best friend.

Suddenly, Fred caught the hint of a different light in the mirror - the reflection of wide, white teeth.

He barely had the time to jump forwards, his fingers instinctively curling around the base of a nearby chair. Without thinking, he threw it behind him, to be rewarded with a grunt of pain. Finding a lamp on the small study table, the thought that this was a Muggle house had barely crossed his mind before he threw it at his assailant.

Years of practicing Quidditch made his aim true, and the man faltered in his attack, giving Fred the time to properly look at his enemy for the first time. The man's grey hair was matted with blood and his black eyes glinted with anger, but it was only when he turned to face him with a mouth full of pointed teeth that Fred realised who it was.

Greyback.

The werewolf.

The monster.

Fred started to run, away from Greyback and back towards the corridor, but something instinctively held him back. That age-old fear, coming back to haunt him.

 _I hear nothing,_ George's voice sounded in his head.

 _There's nothing there,_ he thought, and forged forwards.

But it was too late. Greyback's teeth were already sinking into his shoulder, pinning him down and dragging him back.

It seemed that monsters did live in the dark, after all.


End file.
